Forgive me
by BloodredCrimsonhands
Summary: Sherlock pulled the trigger, hearing of his brother's death Mycroft thinks back on their feud and what he could have done differently, even geniuses arn't immune to guilt. Will be a two shot
1. Chapter 1

_"_Sir?" Mycroft Holmes looked up as his assistant put her head round the door, Mycroft had given her the job of keeping an eye on his wayward brother, the look on her face said it wasn't good.

"Yes" Mycroft said.

"There were so many snipers, your brother, he blew the building up, I guess he thought if he was to die he would take as many of them with him as possible. He's dead sir, I'm so sorry."

Sherlock couldn't be dead, Mycroft always knew with his brother's recklessness plus his carelessness with his health and ability to make enemies there was no way he could escape premature death but still Mycroft had alway imagined them bickering in their strange way until they were both old and grey.

It was stupid for him to think that.

Mycroft called for a car and navigated the building he knew so well without thinking about it.

Sherlock was dead, gone, he had always tried to protect his younger brother despite what Sherlock dubbed as meddling Mycroft really did care.

He found himself thinking back to when the feud had started.

Mycroft was twenty three and Sherlock ten years younger. They had got along quite well until then, delighted at having another genius in the family the young |Mycroft had encouraged his younger brother at all times, their mother pushed him away, afraid, it was clear by the time he was four that Sherlock was one thing Mycroft was not, a sociopath and unable to deal with such a cold child their mother had ignored him, while their father had encouraged his two sons and sorted out Sherlock's messes it was Mycroft's approval that had meant the most to young Sherlock, approval of someone smarter, of course they had been very competative but it had never been malicious, until 14th August 1989.

You see their mother was half french and her parents had retired to a village in Brittany, so they family had gone to visit them Mycroft who was already practically running the secret service had taken time off work to join them.

They had only been there three days, Sherlock had taken to dissapearing for hours on end and when he was around Mycroft tried to challenge him so he could brush up on his deduction skills. Not that he needed it Sherlock might not have been as good as Mycroft but he wasn't far off.

On the 14th of august their grandmother had fallen down the stairs and hit her head, she had been killed instantly. Sherlock had immediatly accused their grandfather of pushing her, the couple had been having lots of arguments their english grandmother had wanted to return to her own country while their french grandfather had wanted to stay in his. Sherlock claimed there had been an argument and their grandfather had pushed their grandmother and she'd fallen and died.

This was clearly what had happened they was she'd fallen, their grandfather's facial response to Sherlock's accusation, the ever so slight bruise on her shoulder, it was clearly what had happened. But noone believed Sherlock why would they he was a cold antisocial child whose inventive ways of getting into trouble took ridicoulous amounts of money to sort out. Lucky their family had ridicoulous amounts of money. Mycroft smirked as he remembered when a four year old Sherlock had set fire to the sofa just to see how long it would take to burn to cinders or the time he had made plastic explosives in a free science lesson aged seven and blown up the headmasters office at their exclusive school.

But thinking about these escapades was only to avoid confronting his conscience.

Unbelieved by his parents and the police Sherlock had turned to the older brother he had always looked up to "Tell them if I can see it you definitly Mycroft tell them I'm not making it up."

Mycroft had shaken his head and told Sherlock his imagination was running away with him, in an effort to protect his mother from the truth about her father he had lost his brother, even super geniuses made mistakes, given his time over again he would have sided with Sherlock, he had been the only person Sherlock listened too after this inccident Sherlock had closed himself off from his family completely hardly ever interracting with them during the holidays from their exclusive private school.

Althougth not a sociopath or psychopath Mycroft was not used to attacks of his concious but all he could see was the betrayal and anger in thirteen year old Sherlock's eyes and he shuddered as he remember the funeral.

"I will never forgive you for this Mycroft" Sherlock hissed with venemous anger worrying in the voice of a boy his age as they stood by the grave.

Mycroft had dismissed it assuming Sherlock would forgive him in a few weeks, 21 years later Sherlock still hadn't forgiven him. He had underestimated Sherlock.

Things had got worse after their father died a year later, a heart attack brought on from stress the doctor said, unsaid but on everyones mind, was the stress brought on by the sociopath genius son who got in trouble with the police and his teachers almost daily, went missing for weeks at a time and already smoked and dabbled in cocaine.

24 year old Mycroft had had himself appointed Sherlock's guardian as there was no way their mother would be able to cope with him, he had left Sherlock at his school but had him live with him in London during the holidays, feeling sharing a house with him Sherlock had to at least try and like him again, Mycroft again underestimated his brother who during his time there almost died of a cocaine overdose, built up a network of criminal contacts which would be useful to him in his future role of consulting detective, killed an older boy in a fight, the boy was a bully and had attacked Sherlock first but the way Sherlock had killed him, nothing could be proved but Mycroft knew.

Midnight on his 18th birthday Sherlock had woken Mycroft up demanded his share of their father's inheritance and expressed his intentions never too see him again. Which was why Mycroft resulted to kidnapping his brother's associated and bribing them to spy on him, because he worried.

It was too late now, Mycroft thought back to that day in 1989, he had been trying to protect his mother he had no idea his brother would turn on him so much, it was too late now.

He was dead. And Mycroft was left alone with his regret, Sherlock had made his life hell but he couldn't help agreeing with the now late he supposed Dr Watson he made it interesting.

The car stopped and Mycroft stepped out the police and fire service were everywhere.

Walking through the chaos he was stopped by a grey hair DI.

"Sir you can't go any nearer" the DI's badge said Lestrade, he had known Sherlock.

"I will do what I want, now go and play somewhere else, you never did Sherlock any good when he was alive, why should that change now he's dead."

"Why should we have done, he was a freak he was sick we weren't here for his benefit" a pretty sergant said.

Mycroft turned ot her a murderous glint in his eyes, "If I hear the word freak mentioned in conection with my brother again sergant I shall personally make sure you never work in the police force again."

"Brother?" the word was whispered throgh the DI's team in shock. But Mycroft walked on.

"I'm sorry Sherlock" he whispered when he could get no closer, "I truly am", tears falling down his face he whispered "forgive me, forgive me."

After a few minutes Mycroft heard familar footsteps behind him, "Why Mycroft I never knew you cared" a sarcastic but familar voice said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dedicated to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I was pleased but surpirsed by the amount of reviews I got for this fic, this chapter is shorter than the first and I don't think it's as good but I'll let you reader's be the judge of that. **

Mycroft turns around Sherlock is smirking at him. He was a mess his clothes are torn and his coat is partly burned, his hair is slightly singed and his cheeks are covered in ashes and cuts. His friend John Watson is standing a way off talking to Lestrade he doesn't look any better of than Sherlock.

"Sherlock" Mycroft said.

"Glad to see your skills of deduction have not declined in my absence," he handed him the memory stick with the naval plan on, "I switched them I gave Moriarty a fake one which he must have switched with another fake copy, he'd never have thrown the real plans in the pool. Goodbye."

"Sherlock wait" Mycroft called out to his brother who seemed determined to leave.

Sherlock turned "yes?"

"I thought you were dead."

"So did I for a minute, still it was the best chance of survival."

"It made me think, I thought I'd never see you again. I want to apologise for everything, I only wanted to help you, after 21 years can't this end? Please, you are my brother after all."

"You knew he did it and you let them think I was making it up," Sherlock said harshly, "I trusted you and you betrayed me, they thought I was being cruel when I only spoke the truth."

"I was trying to protect Mummy, I had no idea it would affect you this way, we're so alike Sherlock but we're also so different."

"I know I'm mad and you're the perfect one." Sherlock's voiced seethed with hate.

Mycroft feels cut by those words but he knew it was true Sherlock never got the psychiatric help he needed as a child and now it was too late to fix him. He was too old and set in his ways to be changed now. Mycroft still held out hope the good doctor would help, he seemed to be one of the rare people who could stand Sherlock for a prolonged period of time.

"But you I trusted you, you were so good to me as a child everything I did I did for your approval and then you betrayed me like that." Sherlock sounds like he's bursting with anger.

"I know, I'm sorry Sherlock I truly am but I can't turn back time. But you're my brother we should get to know each other better." He had never spoken to Sherlock like this before it had always been the cold detatched one up manship they always used.

"There's no use appealing to my heart have been reliably informed I don't have one," Sherlock said in the normal tone they used for speaking to each other.

"Ok" Mycroft said dejectedly walking away.

"Coffee" Sherlock called after him, "I need a caffine boost there's a good place a few blocks away."

Mycroft smilesto himself before turning around, at least it's a start. Sherlock will never forget but he might at least partly forgive him.

"Alright" Mycroft said deciding to keep his opinions about his brother's excessive caffine consumtion to himself for now.

"John I'm going for coffee with Mycroft" Sherlock yelled over his shoulder at the confused doctor.

Mycroft heard DI Lestrade ask Watson "are they really brothers?"

"Yeah" Watson replied, "I think the Holmeses have redefined the term "dsyfunctional family".

"Tell me about it" Sherlock muttered running round the corner followed by an out of breath Mycroft.

For once Mycroft didn't mind Sherlock's usual comment about his weight it was said with a less cutting tone than normal.

It wasn't perfect, they'd never have a normal relationship but at least it was a start. Maybe eventually Sherlock could learn to trust him again.


End file.
